


This Was Once a Love Story

by RisingAnarchy



Series: Criminal Minds [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autistic Spencer Reid, BAMF Penelope Garcia, BAMF Spencer Reid, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drugged Sex, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oblivious Spencer Reid, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Sad, Sad Spencer Reid, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sexual Abuse, Spencer Reid Whump, Verbal Abuse, Whump, Worried Derek Morgan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26239690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingAnarchy/pseuds/RisingAnarchy
Summary: This was once a love story.She smelled like green apples, and her shampoo shared the same name. She was neither thin nor hefty, but a healthy medium that sat perfectly on her tall frame. She had a smooth voice, but it's obvious that somewhere along the line she had been a smoker. She had long hair that she pulled into a bun, teasing the corners out to frame her face. She had a problem with alcohol. She does this funny thing where her hand yanks back real fast, and before he can even blink, his cheek is burning so fiercely, that if he didn’t know any better, he’d assume his skin had been set aflame. She hoped it would bruise. It does. But she loved him... even when he came home late and she has no other choice than to hurt him. Or when he didn’t do what she asked. She still loved him.He had once believed in love.(Title inspired from the poem ‘This Was Once a Love Poem’ by Jane Hirshfield).
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner/Haley Hotchner, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss & Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/William LaMontagne Jr., Penelope Garcia & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & David Rossi, Spencer Reid & Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid & The BAU Team, Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Criminal Minds [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016581
Comments: 56
Kudos: 100





	1. She

**Author's Note:**

> I as really excited to write this story since it’s been siting in my drafts, hardly finished and begging me to actually continue it. Since I finally finished my other series, I thought now would be a good time to start a new chapter story :) I always see docs where Reid is being abused by a male or by his boyfriend, so I decided to write one that switched that around. Females can be abusers- males can be abused. Some general warnings will be posted below, but check each chapter for chapter-specific warnings, loves. Stay safe and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> General Warnings:  
> -Domestic Abuse  
> -Abusive Relationships  
> -Alcohol and Drug Addictions  
> -Rape/Non-Con  
> -Drugged (therefor, non-consensual) Sex  
> -Emotional/Verbal/Physical/Sexual Abuse  
> -Emotional Manipulation  
> -Very Vague Description of Eating Disorders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He spots her from across the table on a quiet, usual day in the library. She’s reading Twilight, and for some reason, he thinks that should have been a red flag. Spencer supposed that may have been funny... but the mere thought that he may have been able to prevent the future from happening was excruciating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost... welcome! If you’re from my other series, welcome back, but if you’re new- hello! I’m Lara :) I’ve been waiting to post this story fro awhile now but I’m ecstatic that it’s finally finished. I’ve done lots of research for this story to make it as realistic as possible, but I’m bound to make mistakes. Most importantly, heed the warnings and don’t proceed if you think you may be triggered or upset. You’re safety is of the upmost importance!! Warnings are below. 
> 
> Warnings:  
> -Implied/Referenced Depression  
> -Implied/Referenced Anxiety  
> -Foul Language

_"The only person that deserves a special place in your life is someone that never made you feel like you were an option in theirs." -Shannon L. Alder_

She had dark hair.

Maybe that's what pulled him in- the sheer deepness of her long, wavy hair that framed her face well. A comfortable aloofness surrounded her, warm waves cascading off her as she smiled to seemingly no one, eyes lost in a large book. She delicately pushed a piece of said black hair behind her ear, though her body was anything but. She was neither rail-thin nor weighty, but a healthy in between that offered soft curves and made her look full. He never had a preference for body type, for he thought everyone was beautiful- male and female- even with knobby knees or stretch marks.

It was a little off-putting, realizing that she was bigger than him. Not in height, though she was quite average, but in overall girth. Staring down at his pale, chicken legs, he frowned at the thought of being with a woman like her. She'd never even glance his way.

Doctor Spencer Reid pried his eyes off the girl, instead choosing to settle on his own book.

However, the thought of her came crawling back the moment he began reading the next paragraph. Sparing a passing glance, he found that she was reading a rather juvenile novel. Though that didn't necessarily bother him, as she seemed to be annotating it quite intelligently with multi-colored sticky notes and highlighters. In fact, she seemed rather bored at the book though she was grinning at the pages.

Amused, perhaps.

In all honesty, Spencer couldn't see how anyone could quite enjoy the _Twilight_ series. Judging by the fact that she was already on the third book, however, he supposed she must be somewhat into it.

That's something I think I can overlook, the young doctor thinks assuredly with a curt nod to himself.

Now, if only he could actually convince himself to even talk to her.

The library was quiet, which was expected, but Spencer was glad to see that it was fairly empty apart from the elderly woman at the front desk and the occasional teenager or two in search for a summer reading assignment. It was slow for a Tuesday afternoon, as most of the mothers would visit while their children were at school to catch up on some alone time. The man enjoyed watching the women search endlessly through the many isles, holding two or even three books in their arms as they took their sweet time, no whining children to look after or other motherly-duties to tend to.

It was a bit disheartening to look around and see mostly empty shelves, void of any bookworms.

So much for a good day off. He had been excited to people-watch from morning to closing, like he did often on his days off.

Shaking his head softly, Spencer paid mind to the book cradled in his arms; a classic by R.D. Blackmore. A sickeningly sweet romance called "Lorna Doone,"which was a far cry from the material he was used to reading. He found himself feeling rather disdainful towards those blasted Doones. It was actually putting a damper on his good mood.

That was, until, an angelic voice broke through his inner turmoil.

Whipping his head around silently, he was met with the gorgeous face of the Twilight woman, which he cleverly dubbed her. Her eyes were soft and a deep blue, mimicking that of a grey rather than the typical bright sky-blue he saw daily. No, these were raw pinpricks of the ocean poised deep into her eye-sockets for all to see. Mysterious, and yet somehow they were drawing him in. She had a scar through her eyebrow, though it looks as though she had attempted to fill it in with makeup. Her lips were slightly uneven, although it was unnoticeable unless you were looking. She had a rather large nose and it fit her face well, somehow. And all he can think is that she was perfect.

"Hey, there," The woman smiles kindly. Spencer's lips twitch nervously. "My name is..."

And so she tells him her name and he nods, feeling the tension in his shoulder dissipate as he shakes her hand politely. Her grip is strong and he can't help but profile her, even a little bit. A confident young woman around twenty-six, possibly having been or currently in, the military. Caucasian, though he wouldn't be surprised if she had a close relative of Asian descent.

"I'm Re- I-I mean Spencer. Doctor Spencer Reid. I like your ring. Is it jade?"

She giggles, twirling the piece of jewelry around her finger with a nod. Her eyes meet Spencer's and he feels the world come to a halt, his mouth suddenly feeling as dry as a desert. And as if all the moisture that once resided in his mouth somehow ended up on his palms, he felt them begin to clam up. Rubbing them against his slacks, he curses himself.

"Yeah, actually. My dad got it for me years ago as a birthday present. It's a little to flashy for me, but I was feeling rather eccentric today so I thought, why the hell not! You know?"

Spencer smiles. He doesn't know. The genius sticks to browns and greys, navy and black. He likes the dull colors and how natural they make him feel. For nothing but the sight up a nice sweater vest over a pair of ironed slacks and beat up converse looked nice on him. Someone that was as precise as him should remember to fix his hair, though he liked it curly and slightly unkept. It made him feel human.

"Yes, well, it's really beautiful."

She laughs again, a dorky sound that fills him with joy and for a brief moment, he lets himself chuckle as well.

"Thanks again. Anyways, I didn't come over here to talk jewelry, silly. I came over here to tell you to stop looking at me. Didn't your mother ever tell you that staring is rude?"

Spencer's heart all but shatters at the sentence. Had he been reading her wrong? The boy had thought that maybe she was actually hitting on him! But, alas, he knew it was to good to be true. Wishful thinking, really, that such a perfect woman such as herself would ever want to associate with the likes of him. Nothing but a nerdy, skinny freak with a brain the size of Russia and the social skills of a peanut.

He felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

"Oh! I-I didn't mean to... I mean I was-wasn't trying to offend you in any way..."

She grins. "I was just joking, handsome. I came over here to talk to you. You looked... interesting, to say the least. And I have got to say, I'm really digging the sweater vest look you have going on. Very nerdy-chic, if you ask me."

I'm an idiot, Spencer thinks bitterly as he huffs out a relieved laugh. He knew his sweaters would come in handy one day. And to think, Morgan had told him he needed to upgrade his wardrobe to get any action. In your face, Derek Morgan, Spencer mentally cursed with a confident smirk.

"Why, thank you. You looked intriguing as well, because I know for a fact that no normal person could ever possibly read through the whole _Twilight_ series in one go without gagging."

The two laugh so hard, the elderly librarian has to shush them from the front desk, the furrow in her brow intimidating to say the least. Spencer knew not to mess with her, though she did happen to give out the best hard candy out of all the old woman that worked there.

"Trust me, it took me months to get through the first book."

"So, you annotate out of enjoyment than?"

"You don't?" She smirked.

"Of course I do! I wouldn't be a quote-on-quote 'geek' if I didn't."

"You're a funny one, Dr. Reid," Her eyes darken suddenly, the wind nearly escaping his lungs as her dark blue eyes turn to black, her lips curving. "Would you like to go out for coffee with me? Mm, say, Friday?"

"Uh, ye-yeah! Yes, yeah, of course. I-I mean, I would love to."

Can you sound anymore desperate? As he was silently berating herself, she nodded with a quiet giggle, shifting to gather her belongs from a few seats over, stuffing them into her book bag and draping it over her shoulder.

"Sounds good, Doctor," She scribbles down a number on a sliver of paper she had ripped off from a pink post-it. Handing it over, Spencer felt his heart skip a beat at the phone number that glared daggers back at him. Beat that, Morgan, he smirked to himself again. I scored a date within five minutes and I didn't have to grind on her, like you do, to do so. Reid- One, Morgan- Zero. "Text me when you get the chance. Catch you later, handsome."

Spencer does, hours later when he has sunken into his duvet with no intention of actually faking asleep.

_Hey. It’s Spencer. Spencer Reid._

_Hiya, handsome ;)_

_Just checking in to make sure I got the right number. It appears that I did._

_Of course! I wouldn't gaslight u like that. Now, about that coffee date..._

_Date?_

_Duh! I thot I was being obvious! Cmon dr reid I thought u were smarter than that_

_Sorry, I just haven't been on a date in a long time. Plus, I'm sort of oblivious to these things... I'm sorry._

_Don't apologize, cutie. Ur confusion makes u that much more adorable <3_

A heart. What does a heart mean? Not that she loves him, she couldn't possibly love him already! They just met that afternoon! Maybe she was just being friendly? A little overly friendly, perhaps. How does he respond to a heart? With his own? He wasn't quite sure if he were comfortable sending his own little heart back.

_How does 7:30 work? I know it's a bit late, but I don't get out of work until 7:00. Also, I should warn you that plans are difficult to make in my line of work so I'm sorry if I have_ _to raincheck._

_Wat do u do?_

_I work for the FBI. The Behavioral Analysis Unit to be precise. We catch serial killers, rapists and other spree killers._

_I do like a man in uniform... 7:30 works for me, hot stuff ;)_

Hot stuff? Hot stuff?! Spencer felt absolutely giddy.

_See you there! :)_

_Night, handsome. C u Friday!!!_

Friday comes around all to slowly, and Spencer finds himself just as nervous as the day in the library. His hands shake around the bouquet of roses, crimson in color and dethorned. He runs the pad of his finger against the butt of one of the thorns, focusing on the slight poke the cut edge offered rather than his overwhelming nerves.

Spencer didn't go on many "dates."

His most recent encounter with another individual in a romantic sense had been with an older man at a club the team had went to after a particularly grueling case. The man had been kind, offering to buy him a drink and not being too pushy- keeping his distance and not once trying to invade the boy's personal space. Morgan had been winking at him from across the bar, exciting a round of giggles from the girls and fond smiles from Hotch and Rossi, who were watching the interaction with curious eyes. More specifically, watching the other male's hands to ensure he didn't try to slip anything into the drink. Reid, though he had quite the disdain for being babied, had actually appreciated their concern. The last thing he wanted was to be drugged and possibly raped and-or kidnapped on a Thursday night.

Luckily, the man hadn't tried anything.

And they had danced.

Oh, how the two of them had danced the night away as if they were the only two people in the room. The rest of the world faded away as they waltzed, Reid's hands around the man's neck and the latter's on the younger's slim hips as they swayed. Chatting endlessly about mindless things, the night ended early when the tell-take sound of Hotch's phone run from the table.

Another case.

Spencer never did get the man's number, though he had thought about it for days afterward, his heart aching to see the man with dark hair and smoldering eyes once more.

Shaking his head and reminding himself that he was currently waiting for his current date (and definitely should not he focusing on the total hotty from the bar), he smiled and twitched from his seat.

Lifting his wrists anxiously to check his watch, he let out a relived breath. 7:25. He was still early.

As if the universe had heard his nervous thoughts, the front door to the small cafe opened and in walked her. She was wearing a dress, around mid-thigh in length and loose on her body, though Spencer could make out her thin waste and the cute bit of pudge on her stomach. He smiled. She looked around the main area with inquisitive eyes before latching on to Spencer's table, locking gazes before grinning softly and walking over. Spencer stood, pulling out the chair for her, causing her to giggle quietly and mutter in thanks. She hung up her purse on the back of the chair and settled in.

"So, how are you-..." Spencer, if it were even possible, purred out her name, through no fault of his own.

"Just peachy, Dr. Reid. And, no, I'm not being sarcastic. Guess who just got a raise!"

Spencer allowed and open-mouth grin to crawl on to his lips. "Woah! That's great! Where did you say you worked again?"

"I didn't," He could have sworn he remembered her... "But I work at a law firm down on 46th. I hang around the big boys, Spencer, so I know how to deal with men. Something tells me you aren't like those dicks though, huh?"

Spencer knew what it was like to feel out of place in a male-dominated field. Because, though he was a cis-gendered male, he wasn't necessarily the 'picture perfect' man people see in magazines. He was lanky, impossibly so, with rail-thin legs and protruding hip bones. His ribs were visible, especially under thinner dress-shirts, which made it essential that he never encounter a pool-party, as he refused to change. Though he wasn't as confident in his body as a person like Hotchner or Morgan, he didn't feel the need to change at the moment, nor had he actively been trying to better his life style.

That being said, he knew what it was like to feel undermined. Under-appreciated. Bullied or even harassed.

Morgan meant well with his jokes... he truly did, but Spencer has a bad habit about letting people's words seep into his skin, running through his veins like a virus. He knew he wasn't the poster-child for testosterone, nor did he want to be the embodiment of an alpha male. It didn't bother him that he tagged along on 'girl's nights' with Prentiss, JJ and Garcia. In fact, if anything, it make him feel better about himself.

"I understand. You can imagine what it's like working with literal FBI agents, can't you? You'd think they all had hero-complexes or something of the sort."

They order their drinks; Spencer a latte with three teaspoons of sugar and a dash of caramel swirl while she gets a basic coffee with cream.

"Everyone thinks that just because your different, that you can't do your job," She sighed and traced the lip of her mug, gripping the handle tightly before taking a long sip. Spencer preferred to savor his drink, taking short slurps every few minutes or so. "Can't complain though. I mean, you catch serial killers for fuck's sake!"

Reid barks out a quiet laugh. "Well, hate them or love them, my team wouldn't be anywhere without our typical 'alpha males.' Who would kick down all the doors?"

She laughs and there it is again- the adorable little snort that makes his stomach sprout butterflies. "Without checking if their unlocked first?"

"That's the only way to do it, I suppose."

They talk. Hours upon hours until it's nearing ten in the evening and the owner of the cafe is having to shoo them out the front door. And even then, they spend the rest of the night strolling the street, gazing through strip-mall windows and stopping at a convient store for candy because she quote-on-quote, 'felt like it.' He can't complain either- some sour gummy worms sounded really good right about then.

They head there separate ways, but not before Spencer walks her to the front door of her apartment to ensure she got home safely. And even once she has gotten inside, he waits for her text to assure him that she's okay. Because god forbid anything happen to that woman on his watch, he simply wouldn't be able to forgive himself. Spencer goes home.

A horrible dirtiness settles within him, weighing him down until all he can do is lay in his bed. He had fun tonight, why couldn't he let it stay that way? Why did he have to go and ruin it all? Every wrong thing he may have said, or every wrong move flashed through his mind from the night. What if she hated him? What if she never wanted to see him again?

His phone buzzes and he realizes he's crying.

_Goodnight, handsome! I had fun tonight. Same time next week ;) <3_

_Totally! Let me know when you're free!_

_Okie dokie artichoke! Night_

His fingers shake, thumbs feeling heavy under the pad of his palm as he makes contact with the keyboard, eyes filling with tears as a hand grips his heart painfully.

_< 3_

_“Don't judge yourself by what others did to you.” -C. Kennedy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so good to start writing again. Referencing what I put in the Beginning Notes, I did research for this story, but mistakes are human. They’re bound to happen. If you guys wouldn’t mind, if you find something unrealistic about the abuse or insulting towards abuse survivors, please let me know. I would never want to offend anyone. Thank you all for reading! :)
> 
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos and save for later! Lots of love- Lara <3


	2. Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wasn’t crazy. He knew he wasn’t. Because he knows that when he wakes up in the morning and checks the trash can, the remmenants of a broken dish are going to be there, glaring at him. She broke it. He watched her smash the damn thing on the ground as if it would bounce right on back up. He was not his mother. 
> 
> So, why are his hands shaking as he opens the trash, terrified of what he might find?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this chapter ages ago but I got caught up in my personal life. I’m so sorry, my loves, for the long wait! Hopefully the next one will be put quicker :)! Heed the warnings, and thank you for reading! 
> 
> Warnings:  
> -Controlled Eating  
> -Implied/Referenced Depression/Anxiety  
> -Mentions of a Meltdown  
> -Emotional Manipulation  
> -Mellow Verbal Abuse

" _I know that it's easier to look at death than it is to look at pain, because while death is irrevocable, and the grief will lessen in time, pain is too often merely relentless and irreversible."_  
_-Robert Goolrick_

"You know," She mumbled around a mouth-full of chicken chow-mein, sniffling as she did so with the curl of her nose. "It would do you some good to go for a run from time to time. Just a short one, baby, not even a mile."

Spencer's mind drew a blank. A run? What an odd introduction to their usual Saturday-night dinner conversation. Usually they talked about literature or politics, or perhaps even the stock market if they had the time. But rarely about trivial things such as exercise or anything of the like. The younger man's eyebrows furrowed as he slowly put his fork down.

"A... a run?"

She nodded around another forkful. "Yeah, baby. It'll do you some good to get some of that weight off. Trust me, I know how difficult it is to control yourself during the holidays. You can't really be an FBI agent unless your fit and let's just say... you've packed on a few pounds lately."

Spencer gives himself the once over, eyes traveling from the tips of his toes to his collarbone. It's protruding, as always. He hadn't put on extra pounds.

"No, I haven't. I look the same as I did before," He defends weakly. Arguing with her was the last thing he wanted to do on day like this, when even getting out of bed was hard enough. He enjoyed her presence; the way the room was suddenly brighter when she walked into it. Spencer liked the way her hair smelled of sour green apples, just like her shampoo (which sat on a perfect pedestal in his extra bathroom, which he kept pristine just for her). He wouldn't let her share a bed with him just yet, liking his privacy and alone time at night. Besides, he stayed up almost all of the night most days and he knew she went to bed earlier than him. "Besides, the team always tells me I could afford to gain a few pounds. So, maybe it's a good thing that I'm gaining weight."

"Oh, hun," She pouts condescendingly, twirling her fork. "You believe them?"

What wouldn't he? They had never lied to him before and they had no reason to. My friends love me, Spencer tells himself quickly, they would never lie to me about something like this. And, as always, he was right. The team knew better than to hide their honesty behind poorly drawn out lies, seeing as though Spencer was fairly good at recognizing when someone was lying. He was a profiler, after all, so they were actually all quite good at implementing some factors of their job into everyday life.

Like knowing the signs of abuse, so when that women in the grocery store who harbors a black eye and steps carefully her husband as he walks beside the cart, won't be left to get beaten on by the man who swore to protect her.

Or recognizing when a child is in danger, so when that stick-thin toddler, covered in bruises and smelling like a corpse, won't be ignored. They can dig deeper and find out the mother had decided drugs were more important than feeding her child.

Identifying a kleptomaniac, so that man who's short on cash after losing his job and can hardly support his family (and may or may not be contemplating taking his life to numb the pain of being a failure) doesn't have to lose the few bills in his wallet because some greedy, adrenaline junkie decided he wanted to steal it.

Spencer prided himself at being good at his job so he could protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

People are blinded by love...

"Of course I believe them, they have no reason to lie to me about that. They're all fairly honest people, you know."

"Oh," She cooed. "I know, baby, but sometimes people lie so they don't hurt someone else's feelings. It's alright though, they aren’t the best people to hang around anyways. At least in honest to you. I'm just trying to make sure you're the best person you can be! And if that includes a bit of running, than I don't see the problem. Please? For me?"

Spencer is a love-sick puppy when it comes to her. Because she's so nice to him; treats him as if he were the Queen of England herself. So, he nods and looks down, once more, at his body. The genius can't see any new fat in places where it wasn't before, but supposed his assessment may be skewed. It was his own body, after all. Maybe she saw something he didn't.

"Oooh...'kay? But, the team is anything but a bad influence They're all good people And I respect them," He'd defend his friends until the bitter end. Because, even if they didn't know it, they had saved his life on more than one occasion. Sometimes, those lonely nights spent in hallowed darkness were more dangerous than being held hostage by a psychotic unsub.

"Sure they are. But if they were truly your friends, they'd tell you the truth. And the truth is- you could stand to lose a few pounds. You know, I was actually a nutritionist in my college days!"

Spencer's eyebrows dipped as he muttered, "A nutritionist?"

He hadn’t known that.

"Yes," She said, rather sure of herself. "You'll look so handsome. So perfect!"

And that's all he wants to be for her- the perfect boyfriend. One who was willing to do anything to protect her. Someone who would go to the ends of the earth just to make her happy. She deserved it, after all, and Spencer knew that in the end, he'd do anything to watch that gorgeous smile of her’s light up. Anything to reassure him that he had done the right thing; that he wasn't a complete and hopeless loss. Morgan's words still rang through his ears years later, and though he wished he could take the comment as it was intended- as a joke- he finds himself letting it crawl into the depths of his heart and taking hold.

_"That's why you can't get a date."_

She recommended exercise. He agreed with the small hope that if he did, she'd be content. And so, he starts exercising, sometimes she even joined in, which never failed to bring a smile on his face as they laughed through the pain.

School, which he remembers vividly, had been even more torturous than these pointless exercise sessions. Being teased about his obvious lack of athletic ability, small stature and skinny form was definitely one of the more painful things he had been bullied over. The other being the fact that his brain had been so advanced, he had been ridiculed and called a "freak" or even "alien" if his fellow students were feeling particularly cruel that day. The thing that hurt the most, however, was being teased- no, harassed- over his odd quirks and poor social skills.

A certain r-word haunted his nightmares the same way the faces of the victims they couldn't save did.

As he grew older, Spencer learned that his body didn't define who he was. Gideon taught him that in particular. He was shown how it didn't matter what he looked like, how smart he was or where he came from... what mattered was his character, his grit, and how he treated people. If only he had learned to consider himself for that last bit. Spencer had a nasty habit of putting others before himself, and while it was admirable, it was dangerous for his wellbeing.

The young man ate what she made for lunch and dinner, and skipped breakfast on account of her expert opinion stating that the morning was the worst time to eat. It made him bloated, she pointed out with a poke to his stomach. He wanted to throw up.

Spencer isn’t stupid. His IQ had skyrocketed passed history's most notorious genius' and he had certainly proved himself intelligent nearly every time he opened his mouth. He knew it wasn't healthy. There was nothing healthy about eating only around 600 calories a day for a 6'1 male who was already lithe to begin with... but he kept his mouth shut to avoid further conflict.

She could be quite ruthless when she wanted to be. However, every argument always ended in a sincere apology, so Spencer didn't really mind all too much.

Currently, Reid was doing the one thing he had sworn to himself he wouldn't do: start a quarrel.

However, one may argue that the action that caused the fights wasn't warranted and certainly didn't make her anger justified. What was so wrong about sneaking a piece of chocolate after weeks of nothing but "healthy" eating? To her, it meant everything, apparently.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The room smells of sour green apples. He can feel her preside behind him; a loathing, haunting shadow of doubt that was constantly looking over his shoulder to judge his every movement. But she loved him. She said so and he believed her because she was so kind to him, and she never once judged him for who he was. She loved his brain and even shared some of his intellect, being a Harvard graduate herself and working at a top-of-the-line law firm. She liked to run her fingers through his hair and call him handsome whenever she found the time. All Spencer could do was flourish under her praise and do whatever he could to feel that small bit of validation... just to know that he was doing the right thing. That he wasn't as worthless as he believed he was.

"I-..." The doctor whips around, feeling like a small child who had just gotten caught with a sticky hand in the cookie jar. "I-I was just-... I wanted something sweet to-... I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" She muttered. Her fists clenched at her sides and Spencer could feel the anger radiating off of her. And to think, he hadn't thought it would be a bit deal if he ate just a measly chocolate chip to tie over his sugar cravings. Oh, how he was sorely mistaken. "You're sorry?! We had a deal! You promised me you would trust me on this. Is what I make you not good enough for you? Do you hate my cooking that much that you feel the need to sneak food behind my back?"

"No! That's not it at all. I-It's not that big of a deal," He shushed softly. "It's just a few pieces of chocolate. I haven't had sugar in weeks; I did- do- trust you. And your food is good- it is, trust me! I'd never lie to you."

"No," She growled, her fingers clutching at the kitchen counter top. Spencer felt foolish about having been caught red-handed with his torso hidden within the walk-in pantry, bottom sticking out as he rummaged for candy. This is humiliating, he chastised himself, you should have just resisted the urge. Her hands found the nearest object- a clean porcelain plate in the sink, and promptly threw it to the ground with an earth-shattering smash! His world came to a halt and if he didn't know any better, Spencer would have assumed his heart has stopped indefinitely. "Now look what you've done! Clean this shit up."

Spencer shook his head, his own anger growing. "No. You're in my apartment, yelling at me for eating a chocolate chip, for Pete's sake! Then you go and break a plate! I will not clean it up."

Her face softens, eyes watering silently as she sniffed and backed away. Her lips trembled.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to I swear it- I was just angry and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Spencer. God, I'm such a bitch. I-I've just been stressed from work recently and seeing you has been the only good thing in my life... and now I've gone and fucked it up. I'm so stupid!"

The younger man's eyes falter, his gaze turning from petrified anger to remorse as he backed away, guilt eating at his insides. He hadn't meant to scare her, in fact, he was nearly sure she had scared him more in the end. But the unshed tears in her eyes told a different story and Reid couldn't help but feel like a horrible person. She had been trying to help him; to better himself so that he could be a better agent. A better man. And how did he repay her? By yelling and breaking her trust!

So selfish, Spencer berated himself, what the hell is wrong with you?

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. You're not stupid. Not at all. Here, I'll go get a broom and sweep this up. Why don't you go sit on the couch and put a movie in the DVD player and I'll be in there in a moment?"

"I'm sorry, Spencer. This is all my fault!"

"No! No, really, it's mine. I didn't mean to yell at you, truly. I'm sorry."

She nods and sniffs, though no tears fall from her ocean-blue eyes. Once she had left the room, Spencer is left to wallow in the thick, mournful residue of their small quarrel, which had been over before it even began. He felt out of place, standing their in the middle of his kitchen among shattered glass and the walls whispering the sour remains of the argument. The genius wouldn't blame her if she wanted to leave him, considering he had chosen to defy her despite knowing it was in his best interest to follow the rules. It didn't matter how tired he was during the day, or how he could see and feel his skin becoming thinner and bruising easier- even with the smallest of touches. And it didn't bother him that his hair was thinning or how with each shower, another chunk of his chestnut locks would flow down the drain, waving a somber goodbye. Because she was happy when she could feel his ribs crawling up his torso like a sick and twisted latter, or how she enjoyed gripping his protruding hip bones like handle bars. Spencer couldn't say he hated how she traced his cheek bones, which threatened to tear through his skin, or how she would encourage him to keep up the good work.

It was showing.

All his hard work was paying off. 

With a melancholy sigh, Spencer took the broom from the far corner of the pantry and began sweeping the small mess of glass up into a pile.

The plate was completely shattered with no hope of repair. He wouldn't even bother trying. One look at all those tiny fragments that had come loose in the crash and he knew there was no saving this one. Luckily, it hadn't been the prettiest of his china, and was rather thin and he knew, logically, that he would have eventually broken it anyways. He was a clumsy person.

Spencer never knew how much he'd be using that excuse in the future.

Nor would he care to remember this night, when she broke a plate because he ate a morsel of chocolate. Because he's not looking for it. What he's looking for, is a smile on her face and a content, warm feeling in his gut. Though it sits like a rock in his stomach and simply feels wrong, he won't question his girlfriend's strange ways of keeping him on his dietary track. Watching him eat, making him food, somehow knowing when he ate more than she allowed, thinking she wouldn't. No, he certainly wasn't looking for it.

That night he spent on the couch with her.

Her head is on his shoulder, her body coiled up next to his, feeding off his body warmth. He can't relax. The good doctor's shoulders are tense, wishing she'd move away so her hair would stop tickling his neck and he wouldn’t feel as though the world were on his shoulders (literally). But he kept his mouth shut, remembering the events that had transpired earlier vividly. He know better now, than to anger her to that point.

But she still loved him. She tells him that before she heads off to the guest bedroom.

Reid has refused to let her sleep with him, as she does every time, and she relented after a few short pleas before sauntering off. For a brief moment, he wondered if he should have given in and let her share his bed. He dismissed the idea after thinking of another body laying in his bed, another head on his pillows. The thought nearly made him feel ill.

It's been five months since the day in the library. Five wonderful months that Spencer wished he could have savored.

Suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable, the younger male squirmed slightly, careful not to nudge her to harshly. His skin felt as though it were on fire, pin-pricks crawling up his arm and making his brain feel like television static.

"I-... could you please just-... would you mind giving me some space? Please."

She sneered, arms tightening around him. He whined. "I haven't seen you all week. If you think I'm going to let you go, you have another thing coming. Besides, all this extra fat on your stomach makes for a nice pillow... I guess those workouts aren't working."

Feeling his breathing picking up and the onslaught of a meltdown clawing at his psyche. He aches to be in his bedroom, the door closed and locked nice and tight to prevent any prying eyes. There, he could cry in peace. There, in his absolute solitude, he could let the stress of the day wash and away and let the pain that plagued him fade into a dull ache. His beloved bedroom, which concealed the softness duvet in existence and a plush mattress that enveloped him like an old friend. Best of all- he was alone. No prying eyes, no bellowing voices or nosy minds trying to sneak a peak.

"I-I'd really appreciate it if you'd move away from me."

She scoffs. "Only if you say you love me."

Spencer chokes on his own spit. It took him two years before he could tell Gideon that he loved him and mean it. He still hadn't told his team how much he loved them simply because he couldn't form the right words. Those sacred words weren't taken lightly and five months was no where near enough time for him to develop such feelings. So, he kept his mouth clamped and refused to yield to her. In fact, the young doctor was considering telling her to leave considering she had crossed the line more times in approximately half an hour than she ever had in the five months he's known her. She was so sweet, so caring and gentle with him that he was nearly sure that she had been switched out with a cruel, eviler side.

No, he reminds himself. It was his fault for overreacting and escalating the situation by yelling right on back. You're better than his, he reminded himself, you know how to handle someone in a fit of rage. You study human behavior for Pete's sake!

"I'm sorry-..." Her name tasted sweet on his tongue. He ignored the way it turned sour a moment later. "But it's too soon. I can't tell you that without lying. I-I'm sorry."

"Say you love me or I won't let go. Say it."

"No! You can't come into my apartment, break my property and than force me into-..."

"I never broke your property. What the hell are you saying?"

She must think I'm idiotic, Spencer blanched. Had she already forgotten the events that transpired not even an hour earlier? Surely she wasn't that forgetful... in fact, Reid knew she wasn't. She had an exceptional memory, while not eidetic nor photographic. She had remembered his coffee order so when they went to the cafe and he had yet to arrive, she could order for him and allow for the right amount of time for his coffee to cool down by the time he arrived. There was no way that she already forgot the fact that she had smashed one of his fine plates in the vexation. The younger man pulled away, scooting further away from the brunette until his hip was hugging the arm of the couch. She was staringat him with those deep eyes that held a raging storm full of crashing waves and torrential downpours. 

Spencer trusted her. He trusted her enough to look into those eyes and believe the look of disbelief in her eyes.

But he was no easily swayed.

"Yes you did. You broke on of my dishes- I just finished cleaning it up!"

"No, I didn't. I think I would known if I broke one of your dishes. Come on, Spencer! I'm not stupid! You sound crazy. Are you feeling okay?"

Shaking his head briefly in utter confusion, Spencer nodded, sure of himself. "Of course. I feel fine. What are you talking about?"

Her face softens until a gentle smile settles on her uneven lips. She clasps her pale hands in her lap and casts her eyebrows downward. "Are you stressed from work? Is that it, hun? Coworker problems? Boss problems? We can talk about it if you want. Looking at all those dead bodies must be tiring on your mind and making you crazy. It's okay, baby. Let's talk about it."

No. No, that couldn't be it. He hadn't imagined that whole scene earlier where she had been yelling at him, berating him and guilt-tripping him into believing that he was in the wrong. There was no way he imagined that. His mind was his strongest resource and he would know whether or not he was making things up.

Schizophrenia runs in the family.

"I..." He freezes, eyes hardened on the floor as his mind worked a mile-a-minute trying to piece together the events that transpired tonight. Finally, he lifted his gaze and meet her gentle, caring eyes. Those warm orbs that drew him in and kept his heart from beating straight out of his chest. "I suppose work has been stressful recently.”

"There we go," She muttered, placing a calm hand on his arm and rubbing the pad of her thumb up and down. He could feel her fingers around his bone, only now realizing how skinny he had gotten over the past few weeks. He looked better... or so she said so. He didn’t quite believe it but... she said he did so it must be true. "Everything's alright, darling. Why don't we talk about it?"

The night ends with her leaving with the promise that things will get better.

It's nearing four in the morning when his phone suddenly lights up, the screen illuminating the small room with a luminous blue hue. He reaches over, gripping the device tightly in his hand.

_Goodnight, baby. I'm glad talking helped u relieve some stress <3 I wouldn't want u to start going crazy, love! Lol_

_Thank you for listening. I'm sorry for yelling earlier, it was completely my fault. I should have asked you about the chocolate before just eating it. That was my mistake and you had the right to be angry._

_It's okay, baby. I forgive you :) And of course! U know I love u_

He wants to scream. Because he knows she's expecting him to say it back- almost forced him too earlier- but he knew deep down he'd be lying. Spencer wanted nothing more than to call up JJ, or even Rossi (who had lots of experience with relationships) and ask them what he should do. He knew honesty was the best route, but he was nearly afraid of telling her what he truly felt. She had already called him crazy... he didn't way to find out just how extensive her vocabulary was.

_Love you too._

He checks the trash can in the morning.

The broken plate has disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s when someone tries to control what another person eats. It irks me to no end. Friendly reminder, I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, though I have been in what I would consider a toxic one. He (yes he, this was before I knew I was lesbian) had no respect for my boundaries or want I told him. Nothing makes me more uncomfortable than unwanted physical contact. So, I know a thing or two about respecting boundaries. It’s a major red flag! Stay safe out there everyone and know I love you.
> 
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos and save for later! Lots of love- Lara <3


	3. A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They should know by now. It’s been months, and yet, when he looks into their eyes, he sees that nothing has changed. Perhaps it’s all in his head. Maybe, just maybe, he’s making a big deal out of nothing. All Spencer knows is that if they don’t notice something amiss, there must not be anything wrong to begin with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my loves! Sorry about the wait for this chapter, it went through a lot of editing. Please enjoy and head warnings! 
> 
> Warnings:  
> -Mentioned Abuse  
> -Inappropriate Language  
> -Use of the ‘R’ Word

_“Numbing the pain for awhile will make it worse when you finally feel it.” -J.K. Rowling_

Spencer keeps his lips shut.

Because if he opens them, he's afraid of what may come out on their own accord. He's scared that maybe his mouth will somehow spew the words he was trying so desperately to keep concealed. Perhaps, if he decided to open his mouth, nothing but a mere lie would tumble out and he would have worried for nothing. It means nothing, really. What would he even say? Nothing had happened- not really, anyways. So, then why was he so concerned with accidentally telling them? What exactly would he be revealing?

Spencer keeps his lips shut.

Because no one would believe him anyways. They had no reason to, especially if they saw what she looked like in person. He could- should- fend her off with relative ease. So, even if he did open his big mouth and let the words fall like water weaseling it's way down a waterfall, the worst that could happen was they'd laugh at him. Maybe Morgan would ruffle his hair and call him funny. Garcia may say he was just being silly. They wouldn't care enough to delve deeper or listen to him. He can't blame them either... he's not sure he'd believe himself either.

Spencer keeps his lips shut.

Because she scares him. The way she can go from tranquil to exploding in a big ball of fury in a split-second terrified him to no end. Her voice is like a canon ball headed straight for his chest, where his heart is. Her eyes, steely and hateful, bore holes into his skin until he can feel himself burning from the inside out and all he wishes for is to float in her blown out, blue eyes rather than drown in them. He can hardly look JJ in the eye anymore. She makes him feel like he's losing his mind, when she accuses him of lying and putting words in her mouth. Spencer could have sworn she called him an idiot, but if she denied it every time, it must not be true.

Work is paradise. Spencer can breathe freely, walk wherever he desired, and he certainly doesn't have to memorize steps to determine how far away someone is, and if they're approaching him. Mostly because he isn't afraid they'll find him; in fact, he enjoys the company of others.

But his mind keeps reminding him of how to avoid them.

_Don't let them get to close... she'll know... you don't want to lose your job do you?_

No, of course he doesn't. His job is his sanctuary; his little oasis among a blistering hot desert. Being at work is the one place Spencer feels the weight finally lift from his chest and breath fills his lungs easier than ever before. His eyes don't feel as heavy, and his mind isn't on constant alert. Best of all, Reid can believe someone without a second thought- without thinking that maybe they were just messing with him to make him feel as though he was going insane. No, they never tried to trick him or corner him into submitting until all he could do was nod his head to avoid an argument.

That changes when Emily comes back.

She's supposed to be dead. Spencer thinks back to all those times in the seven months he's known his girlfriend, and wonders if she was right. Maybe he was losing his mind. Because Emily was supposed to be dead and his team would never lie to him. He knew they wouldn't. And yet there she is, sitting at her desk as if the last few months meant nothing to her. As if they were mere vacation time. Spencer considers quitting. There isn't much left for him at the BAU besides getting out of his apartment (which recently turned into both his and her's) occasionally so he doesn't spend all day wallowed up in bed, or baking bread, which he had taken up doing on account of seeing his girlfriend smile upon tasting it.

Spencer thinks it's absurd that he considers leaving his job because they lied to him, when he still stays with her despite the many fibs she's told him.

Why couldn't he just leave?

_You love her. You want to make her happy. She knows where you live, where you work and about your friends and family. She knows your weaknesses. She knows how to make you hurt. She knows how to make you happy. She would give you the world to see you smile. She tries to help you any way she can. She loves you. It's all love._

He still gives Emily hell. Mostly because he knows she won't fight back. Physically, that is. Verbally, she was a spit-fire, as always. She hadn't changed one bit since being away following her presumed "death." But she would never hit him, nor would Prentiss even think of laying a finger tip on him.

It's another day in the office. Spencer feels his heart ache as he writes off file after file, his eyes watching the clock wearily. The day ends in half and hour, meaning he'd have to go home then. Would he have enough time to cook or pick up dinner? Did he put the dishes away that morning? Did he do the laundry? Had he cleaned up the bedroom?

She got out at ten. He had an hour to get home and make everything perfect.

Spencer's phone rings. His personal phone.

If it were possible for his heart could stop, he would have been dead. Because his phone is ringing, the caller ID popping up with her face and her name on the screen. Morgan is glancing over at him, more specifically, his phone. A tantalizing smirk crawls to his lips and Reid swallows the lump in his throat.

_Act cool, you idiot. Don't act so suspicious._

Pressing 'answer call' may have been the most nerve-wracking thing he's ever done, and that includes shooting his kidnapper, overcoming addiction and attending high school at age nine.

"Hello."

His voice was shaky, but ever since he met her, it hasn't been anything but that.

"I'll be home early tonight, love. Okay? I'll pick up dinner for us; how does sushi sound?"

Spencer hates sushi. He hates it. The taste of raw fish tainted on his tongue; the stickiness of the rice trapped to the roof of his mouth; the heat of the wasabi lasting hours after he's already finished; cucumbers. He hates cucumbers. Spencer hates sushi.

"That sounds good. Thank you for picking up dinner. I appreciate it."

_Stay neutral,_ he chastised himself. _Don't let her know you're upset. Don't be selfish- this isn't about you._

"Oh, great! I've been craving shrimp tempura for weeks now. Okay, then, I'll see you when you get home! Bye, love you!"

"I love you too."

He's telling the truth. Out of all the lies he's told in the last couple of months, he's glad that this one thing can be the truth. It's moments like these that he can savor and look back on knowing that he had been right all along. He was the problem, not her. If he acted the way he should, didn't talk back or go against her, she was just as kind as she was when he first met her.

If only he weren't afraid of going home.

"Love? Just who're you saying 'I love you' to, Pretty Boy? You got a girl?"

Spencer tsked quietly, packing the rest of his unfinished paperwork into his satchel and clamping it shut, laying his pens in his desk drawer in orderly chaos. He avoided eye contact, straightening out his stapler.

"Why do you always assume my relationships always involve a female? My sexual orientation isn't a secret."

Morgan quirks his lips to the side in thought. "Is it a guy then? You know I'll beat his ass if he ever hurts you, kid."

Why is it different when it's a female? Are you going to beat her up too, Morgan? Or would you sit back and laugh at the situation like it was nothing but some stupid comedy skit? Would you still hurt her if she were hurting me? No, you probably wouldn't believe it anyways.

"No... you were right."

"How long?"

"Six- going on seven- months."

Morgan sucks at his teeth, standing from his desk and strutting over with his hands in his pockets. Leaning against the slighter male's desk, he didn't bother trying to hide his hardened stare on the genius. Spencer had to twist the urge to hide under his desk to avoid the glare. There was something so threatening about Derek Morgan, it made the young genius wonder if maybe being home truly was better than work. At least at home, he didn't have to tell the truth. No, when he was at home, all he did was lie.

The older man doesn'tsay anything for a moment, but the silence is worth a thousand words as Emily peers over form her own desk, intrigued.

"Why didn't you tell us, man? We wanna meet this lady! Gotta make sure she's right for our little genius, aye? Why're you hiding your lady-friend from us?"

Prentiss grins from ear to ear.

"What is this I hear about a lady friend? Spencer Reid do you have a girlfriend?!"

"Girlfriend?!" JJ's voice has the small group's heads whipping toward the catwalk. Rossi stood beside her, smirking casually as they continued down into the bullpen, effectively butting into the conversation. Spencer can't breathe, "Since when, Spence? Oh, we need to tell Penelope!"

_No. No, no, no, no, no. They aren't supposed to know- why do they know? Shit, shit. She'll be so angry. 'Keep it a secret,' she said, and I couldn't even do that much! No, no. She's going to be furious. Deny it. No, it's too late for that. Idiot! Why didn't I just say no?! Some genius... stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

He wonders how everything fell apart so quickly. One moment, his relationship was his own little secret. A part of him he liked to keep private. Now the whole team was gathered around, bombarding him with questions and demanding answers like no tomorrow. How had he managed to mess up so drastically? If he wasn't home soon, she'd get worried. And when she got worried, she'd get angry. All he wants to do is eat shitty sushi with his girlfriend; no matter how tense and silent it was, or how he was always fussing over every move he made in fear it would cause her to blow up. But it beats this little gossiping session.

Spencer would compare them to high schoolers, but the thought makes him feel as small as a mouse.

Penelope demands her name. For background checks, most likely, but he refuses to cough it up. She wouldn't be happy if she knew he was talking about her behind her back, especially to his work-friends, who she seemed to despise despite never meeting. They pry, and pry, but he keeps his lips sealed (as he should have kept them from the very beginning, but it appeared that he was to stupid to figure that part out).

"She doesn't like meeting new people," He lies behind gritted teeth. His tongue is on fire. "But soon. I promise, you can meet her soon! Just not-... not now."

_Not ever._

"Well, it doesn't matter who she is or when we'll meet her," Hotch smiles like some sick, proud father watching his child grow up. Spencer wants to hurl. A hand is on his shoulder, so full of girth and warmth, it startled him. If they catch the slight, practically nonexistent flinch, they don't say anything. He's glad. "I'm sure if she's dating you, she must be a wonderful women. Although, I'm sure Rossi wouldn't be apposed to dinner at his place if you wanted us to meet her then."

Rossi grumbled something in Italian, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Why must you all put words into my mouth? You know my mansion isn't big enough for all of you."

Hotch huffed a laugh. "We all know that's not true, David. But I'm serious, Reid. We all would love to meet her."

_Maybe... at my funeral._

"I'll... bring it up to her. No guarantees, however, she doesn't really do social outings."

Morgan barks a laugh and the stark contrast from Hotch's to his startled Spencer, causing his eye to twitch. The difference is unmistakable. Perhaps she would rather have a man like Morgan: strong, reliable, courageous, and prideful. Or like Hotch: hard working, confident, kind and protective. In fact, she would probably rather have anyone other than Spencer, now that he thinks about it. He wonders what she sees him in him; why she chooses to stick around when he hardly has a backbone to support himself with. He was like putty in her hands, too afraid she would suddenly up and leave if he decided to defy her. The genius was still somewhat new to relationships, having only been in one prior (Ethan from the academy, who broke up with him only six months after getting together before moving away). He wasn't entirely sure how to handle someone else in his space; making time for them, communicating, knowing when love has faded.

Spencer still couldn't get over the day she had broken the dish... or, he supposed, she never really had.

The weeks following involved researching everything there was to know about mental disorders, specifically schizophrenia. There wasn't much information he hadn't already known, but reading through all fifteen novels on the symptoms and long-terms effects of the disease still helped confirm his suspicions: he wasn't going crazy. If he were, he was sure there would have been more of a warning than simply mistaking someone's actions or making up scenarios in his head. And surely his team would have recognized a change in his demeanor if he really was succumbing to such a mental illness as serious as paranoid schizophrenia. They were profilers, after all.

Profilers... yeah, that's what they were.

Years down the line, Spencer would look back on this year and wonder what good being a profiler is if he couldn't even see the signs. Then, he would wonder if his team could even be considered good profilers, since they hadn't seen the signs either.

Fifteen minutes. Then, he can leave. Thirty minutes to get home in time for dinner. His stomach was aching, begging for substance other than mere coffee. The doctor hoped she would keep her mouth shut during dinner, even if he took more food than she would have liked.

"She sounds perfect for you, kid!" Morgan exclaimed, his boisterous laughter sending shockwaves down Reid's spine. He was so used to silence. "But I bet an extrovert would've brought out your wild side! Don't you worry, kid, we'll teach her the ways of partying and maybe she'll actually convince you to come clubbing with us every once in awhile."

"You never spend any time with me! You're always out with those idiots from work. It's like you don't even care about me! You must hate me."

Emily groaned lightly, a smile gracing her lips and showing her teeth. "Please, if we can't do it, no one can! Even Garcia couldn't get him to come drinking with us last week. That case was rough too. Say, what was your excuse for ditching us again? House sitting?"

" _All you do is lie. Where were you last night? And don't you dare say you were out with your coworkers again- I'm not that fucking stupid. Can't blame you... your more mentally fucked up than that retarded bastard with the mouse. Damn idiot."_

"House sitting? Jeez, kid, you told me you had paperwork to finish," Rossi frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he silently clicked his tongue behind the confines of his teeth. Spencer felt like an asshole. "So, which one was it?"

" _I called your friend- coworker- whatever- Garcia or something? She told me you weren't with them last night. Why the hell did you lie?! Do you really think I'm that stupid?"_

"Both," Reid answers, too quickly, he thinks. Then, he wonders if it were possible for the world to fall apart in a matter of minutes, and thinks briefly, that this must be true. It's happening right now. He can see the sides of his vision blur, the image cracking like television static. The genius wishes they'd give him some space; that they'd back up and let him breathe for fuck's sake. Instead, they seem rather oblivious to the total and utter panic attack grilling at his sides, rolling at his lungs and dragging him to the deepest depths of his mind. A mind that, mind you, was overworking itself twenty-four-seven in a vain attempt to regain control over his life. "I didn't lie I merely... had different reasons, I guess. But both are true."

Spencer feels like his head is underwater, their words fogged and hazy, his eyelids dipping.

"It's almost time to leave already?" JJ sighs. "Thank god! It's been a long day. Hey, I'm going to head out early, okay? Henry wanted me to help him rehearse his lines for a school play he’s in! You’re all invited, by the way. I'll see you guys tomorrow!"

They all say they're goodbyes but Reid can't even feel his tongue. Was he stupid? Why couldn't he just open his mouth and tell them? He was stronger than this! No, perhaps not stronger. Smarter, definitely. Although, he supposed you didn't need to possess an IQ of 187 to recognize when someone begins to misuse the word "love" for "control." And perhaps, he thinks, you don't have to be weak to fall into someone's trap. Lastly, he concurs that you don't have to be stupid, nor naive to believe someone who is skilled at deceiving. It doesn't stop him from beating himself up.

It's time to leave, and Spencer has never made it home faster. Three minutes early- a new record.

She's waiting for him, all grinning teeth and sharp eyes. A beast. But, no. Her lips are stretched into to a gentle grin and her eyes have gone soft and warm. An angel. She opens her arms and engulfs him in a hug so inviting, he forgets about anything she's ever said. He forgets about the day he thought she broke a dish.

Because he loves her. It's painfully obvious.

And that goes for her too. She loves him so much, she just doesn't want him to slip away, which is why she won't let him go out on weekends anymore, and forced him to cut off all communication outside of work with any of the women on his team. She's less concerned about the men, but the way her eyes narrow and fists clenched when she sees him texting one of them proves otherwise. Perhaps they were merely less of a priority. Nonetheless, it shows how much she cared about him, and how she wanted him all for herself. 

It's sweet, nearly, and Spencer wonders if all relationships are like this.

The doctor wonders if Hotch's wife, Haley, restricted how long he talked to his coworkers and friends. And when Penelope and Kevin had been dating, Spencer ponders the idea that Garcia had forced him to cut off all ties with everyone outside of a work setting.

Does JJ force Will into isolation?

Was the reason Rossi had so many divorces because he didn't like the feeling of being controlled?

Reid decides not to bother with it any longer.

"How was your day, babe?" She mutters into his shoulder. Her nimble fingers peel off his tie and he watches on his worrisome eyes, hands shaking as he watched her movements diligently. Waiting.

"It went well. No, uhm, no cases yet."

_Tread lightly,_ he tells himself.

"Hopefully it stays that way, right?"

"Right."

"Now," She hums. "Dinner's in the living room so let's not keep it waiting! Doctor Who is on tonight, y'know," Her face suddenly falls into a deep-rooted frown, guilt and remorse edging on her lips as she stares to the floor. "I-I just want to apologize for this morning. It was a real bitch move for me to pull and I thought this would make you feel better. Sushi, Doctor Who and your favorite girl?"

_My second favorite. My first favorite is my mother. No, more like fifth favorite. He would never say it out loud._

Spencer thinks back to that morning; the fight they had that was more one-sided than anything else. It ended with a hand swooping towards his face, leaving a stinging, red mess behind on his cheek. She left, slamming the door shut and groaning about how she might not ever come back. He pleaded with her, like the pathetic child he was. He wasn't quite sure what he would do without her at this point.

But when he sits on the couch, her warm body pressed against his as he stuffs mediocre sushi down his throat, stomach painfully moaning at him, he finally feels at ease.

It’s days like this he realizes... you get to heaven once you been through hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will hopefully be more dramatic, but I wanted to introduce the team in this chapter and delve deeper into Reid’s relationship with his girlfriend. I’m not entirely sure when the next chapter will be out, but hopefully sooner rather than later, haha! Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting, you all make my day so much better! I love you all so much!
> 
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos and save for later! Lots of love- Lara <3


	4. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing was his anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! There is some triggering content in this chapter, though it isn’t graphic at all. I rather not write a graphic sexual assault scene, thank you very much. See the end for author’s note! (P.S. there is minimal editing on this chapter, so ignore any typos- see end note for why). 
> 
> Warnings:  
> -Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con  
> -Emotional Manipulation  
> -Harsh Language  
> -Vomiting  
> -Victim Blaming  
> -Non-Consentual Touching

“ _It’s one thing to lose people you love. It is another thing to lose yourself. That is a greater loss.” -Donna Goddard_

It wasn't his anymore.

The bed he slept in was occupied on both sides, and even as the sun seeped in through the slivers of the blinds every morning, he could that he couldn't enjoy basking in it. It was too hot with the body lying next to him, sometimes clinging to him like a koala on a tree trunk. Too hot. It felt like his body was suffocating- the air so thick and tangible that it got caught in his throat before even making it to his lungs. The legs intertwined beneath the sheets were not his. They were smooth, slightly shorter, and a little thicker, though that was only because she was at a healthy weight. He was not. The fingers that brushed across his chest filtered under his shirt, running across pale skin and thumbing over old scars.

Spencer doesn't have the heart to push the fingers away, even as they dig into those scars, reminding him of a time when the pain would make him feel relieved.

Don't touch them, he wants to tell her. I don't like them.

But he's afraid that if he decides to open his mouth and utter the words, then she'll feel as though he doesn't love her enough to share his secrets; to share his pain. In reality, the touch merely brings back bad memories, and he much rather she avoid them or even ignore them if possible. Those little raised lines remind him of how weak he was- is- and the fact that he couldn't tell her that only proved his point.

Spencer wears a shirt to sleep for a reason.

She doesn't. She wears a silk nightgown made of sheer material with lace on the edges. It's baby pink and looks nice against her tan skin, but it leaves little to be uncovered. He doesn't mind; she can wear whatever she wanted and he had no qualms about being able to gaze upon her, and she seemed to welcome it.

She liked to look at him too.

The euphoria he felt when her eyes drifted up and down his body was similar to that of Heroin rushing through his veins. He felt no shame. He felt no disgust. When her eyes locked on to his shoulders and upper chest, tracing the lingering effects of depression from his younger days, he felt at home. She didn't judge him for what he had done or who he had been. In fact, she was the only person who didn't quite look at him with pity when she saw them. Instead, she would merely smile and occasionally leave a gentle kiss as a reminder that she was stronger than whatever had caused him to put such marks on his body.

She was stronger...

She was...

She was his everything.

The couple had moved in together upon reaching eight months together, moving closer to her work to be more convenient. It didn't matter to him that it took fifteen extra minutes to get to his job because she brought up some good points when looking for a new apartment. Her job brought home more money. It was more important.

When they received their first round of bills and rent, Spencer quickly realized that without her, he wouldn't be able to pay for the place. And it hadn't crossed his mind up until them that she had him write his name down as the owner rather than both their names. In fact, he didn't even acknowledge it. If they ended up breaking up, he'd be stuck in the apartment with only enough money to pay for one or two more months of rent before he'd have to move.

Laying in bed at night, alone with his thoughts while she slept idly beside him in their shared bed, he wondered why he agreed to love to such an expensive part of town in the first place. It wasn't that he was poor- he'd consider himself middle class- but with the added weight of living with another person, he realized that she was the bread-winner between them, at the moment.

She liked to walk in on him while he was taking showers.

Reid knew- he knew- that this was a relatively normal thing to do in a relationship, but it didn't stop him from getting peeved off whenever she did it. That was his alone time, where he could sit with his thoughts and organize his brain for the day to come, or the next. So, when she came in and did her makeup, or skincare, or even to get in the sheer with him, he wanted to tell her to leave.

_"Don't be such a prude. If you loved me, you'd want to spend as much time with me as possible. You must not love me as much as you say you do, huh? Lying bastard."_

Shaking his head, Spencer relaxed into the mattress, the sun reaching his eyes and blinding him for a moment. His groggy mind was still waking up from a fitful night of sleep.

She groaned beside him, stuffing her face in between his pectoral, nuzzling her lips against a particularly deep scar.

A bruise rests high on his ribs, staining his pale skin like some sick sort of bleach stain that just won't come off. It's a sickening blue and purple, green around the edges, and nearly black at the center.

Whenever he looks at the corner of the counter in their small kitchen, she shutters and steps further away. The feeling of her hands shoving him against it in a fit of blind rage haunts him, even a week later. She had apologized profusely, stating she hadn't been in her right mind and she still loved him unconditionally.

"I'll never do it again," She had said, and for whatever reason, Spencer believed her. He let her clean him up, putting some Bio-Freeze in the bruise during the day to ensure the pain wouldn't reappear later. It was sweet, when she held him, whispering sweet words into his ears and ensuring him that he was the brightest part of her life. He was the most gentle, more caring person in the world. She loved him.

Spencer realized that maybe love is worth the pain.

"It's seven," He whispers, breathing lightly as to not push the girl off his chest. "We have to meet the others at four."

"I already knew that."

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Spencer gulped at the thought. He waited for her to pry away from his body, glancing away as she adjusted her gown, yawning into her hand shortly after. Standing, he worked around her, letting her take the bathroom first while he prepared breakfast, noting vaguely that they were almost out of eggs. He cooks quickly, laying the singular plate on the bravely in the breakfast nook while he prepared coffee. It was a quiet morning, which he was glad for, and he hoped that peacefulness would last throughout the day. He had been dreading today for weeks, and now that it finally had come, he felt as though his heart would beat right out of his chest.

Spencer froze, listening for the telltale signs of her footsteps sulking down the hallway.

He looked around.

The dishes were dried and put away- the sink clean. The fruit bowl was restocked with clementines from the refrigerator and the stove was pristine. The thermostat was set at its regular temperature and the counters had been wiped clean. Breakfast was made and on the table. There was nothing to worry about.

She entered the room, makeup done and hair up in a messy bun, which he assumed she would fix later on in the day. She wore a pair of jeans and a v-neck shirt that hung low. Her feet were bare.

It's moments like these that he realizes how much he overreacts. She was normal. She looked normal enough, anyway. There was no way someone so average could be capable of cruelty. No, he was just being an idiot, as always.

Spencer watched as she scanned the kitchen.

Her eyes locked on the paper towel holder, which he hadn't realized until now, was completely void of the wipes. His eyes wobbled as his breathing shallowed out, hands shaking beneath the table as he stared on. How had he not noticed?

"Would it kill you..." She mumbled, "...to help out around here for once? I work every fucking day, all day, to make you happy and this is how you repay me?! A lazy bastard like you has more than enough time on his hands to fucking replace the go damn paper towels! What don't you understand? I do everything for you!"

Spencer felt the world around him crumbled.

"I-I'm really sorry. I hadn't noticed until now. I-I'll go get some from the- from the laundry room."

She humphed, sitting at the table as Spencer rose, dashing to the laundry room as quickly as he could.

By the time he came back, she hadn't even touched her food and was looking rather pissed as he watched Spencer put the paper towels back. However, when he turned around to approach the table, he was dumbfounded when he saw a gentle smile on her lips, eyes soft and warm. The woman watched as he took a seat, wasting no time in rubbing her bare foot against his calf. He smiled timidly at her, feeling awkward since she had looked damn-near murderous only a few moments earlier. She took one of his hands in her own and brushed his knuckles with her thumb.

Finally, Spencer let his shoulders relax.

The tension slowly disappeared, leaving behind a warm buzz that infiltrated his ears and left him feeling hazy.

She leaned in.

"If you fucking say a word tonight," She whispered softly. He tried to pull his hand away, to no avail. Her grip tightened. "I will not hesitate to kill you, you retarded bastard. Do you understand me? Or are you too stupid to comprehend?"

Spencer's eyes widened for half a second before relaxing again. This has happened before.

"I understand."

Her body relaxed slightly, and if Spencer didn't know any better, he thinks he saw a flash of remorse in her ocean eyes. Scratch that. Perhaps he didn't know any better, because the moment he saw her gaze change from raging irises to the gentle, fawn-like orbs he had fallen in love with, he knows everything will be okay. She felt bad, so of course, everything would end up fine.

She smiles, and he can't help but be dragged in by the way her lips quirked up, so smooth and kind. He drowned in the expression; let it drag him down to the deepest depths of his mind and leave him there, struggling for breath and fading fast. How could something so beautiful cause so much pain?

"Now, what do we say when you make me upset? Or can you not remember that either?"

Spencer gulps.

"I'm sorry."

She smiles, and Spencer somehow knows that apologizing would rectify everything in the end. She always forgives him, and then they can move along on good terms. So, when he made a mistake at work or said the wrong thing, naturally, he apologized profusely until the other party assured him everything was fine. It only furthered the idea that everything truly was his fault, if they were also accepting his apology. When Morgan accidentally bumped into him and Reid, as the clumsy idiot he was, spilling his coffee on both of them, the younger had said he was sorry until his throat had run dry and his tongue ached. Why shouldn't he? It was his fault, wasn't it?

His lover nodded quietly and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together until it left the boy a blushing mess.

"That's alright. I accept your apology, but only because your too cute to stay angry at," He laughs quietly and acts at her when softly. "Awe, he's blushing! Maybe I'll make a fool out of you tonight and show all your coworkers just how red I can make you!"

Reid mock gasps. "You wouldn't!" He grinned.

"Oh? And how are you so sure, Casanova? You know what, I might as well! Just to see you all flustered and adorable. I bet the others would just fawn over you, wouldn't they?"

And just like that, the tension had been broken and all that was left as the underlying ache and a burning sensation deep in his gut. The same feeling he got when he was alone in an interrogation room with a criminal. Though he knew the others were waiting on the outside for him, and any one of them would be willing to throw a punch to protect him, he couldn't help but still feel frightening. Who's to say the murderer he was questioning wasn't planning to take him out? And what was to happen if that rapist he was trying to pry information from decided to make him their next victim and his team didn't make it in time?

It was always an unconscious phobia that had followed him around, though it lessened as he grew older. It still embarrassed him to know that Gideon kept him from interrogation when he first joined because of how physically inadequate he was. He was easily pinned, and Reid shuttered at what that entailed had he lost out to one of those murderers or rapists.

Gideon was gone now, but Spencer's fear was still prominent.

She picks out what he wears, as she does every morning, and he doesn't have the energy to argue anymore. It's a simple outfit, one that covered him to fit her needs, claiming she didn't need anyone else looking at what was hers. He hates when she says that; like he's nothing more than a meager object for her to control.

A pale, pink dress shirt under a grey sweater vest, coupled with grey slacks, and socks to match the shirt to a T. She agreed on letting him where his converse, though she did sheer at the idea, so he offered to buy her whatever she wanted later as compensation. She says she always wanted a diamond necklace, and he can't argue.

Deep down, he was dreading tonight, though he tried to keep his anxiety at bay.

Tonight was a night of pretending.

Unfortunately for him, dating the devil meant getting away with sinning was impossible, and lying had never been one of his strong suits.

_______________________________

Rossi's house is stifling, no matter how large it is. No matter how many rooms there are, or how many winding hallways, it still feels suffocating. The bathroom feels like a box, confiscating him inside with no hope of escape, all four sides locked and bolted so he has no chance of escape. Sweat dripped down from his hairline, stinging sharply as it impaled through his eyes, causing him to blink repeatedly to dull the pain. The last thing he needed was for his contacts to pick up on the salty substance, or he'd be in pain all night long. Turning on the faucet, he captured a cup of water in his palms and splashed it against his face, hoping the cool substance would somehow calm his nerves.

As it turns out, it does, and he can feel his heart rate coming down from its high. And to think, all this freaking out and he hadn't even been there for ten minutes!

God... he was going to be sick.

Spencer clutched his stomach as a wave of nausea rolled over him, doubling over he let his body sink to his knees as he held his breath, hoping his sudden sickness would disappear if he willed it to. He would be absolutely mortified if he ends up blowing chunks in the David Rossi's bathroom. As he looked towards the toilet with eager eyes, he hardly noticed the knocking at the door.

The owner of said bathroom continued to knock gently on the door as he called out.

"Hey, Reid? You know she didn't mean it like that, right? She was just joking. Besides, I'm sure she didn't even know what she was talking about, let alone how it pertained to you," Reid ignores his words, because he knows, deep down, that it was not a joke. It was a threat. A threat laced with gentle, soft words. A wolf in sheep's clothing. He knew he shouting have opened up to her about it- though he assumed this was the universe finally deciding to give him what he deserves. A slap in the fucking face. Spencer wished he would disappear. "C'mon, kid, don't be such a stick-in-the-mud. Listen, I get it, I'd be pissed to if someone said that crap, but you can blame her. It's not her fault! Hey, are you wrenching in my five-thousand-dollar toilet?! Kid? You okay in there?"

Of course, it wasn't her fault. When was it ever her fault?! No, it was always Spencer's, wasn't it? It was his fault that dinner didn't taste good- even if he followed a recipe that she gave him. And it was his fault that she had forgotten to stop for groceries because he was too "damn distracting." And, naturally, it was his fault she got so angry all of the time because he was nothing more than a "narcissistic prude with the sex-drive of a dead fish." It was his fault when she...

This time, Spencer did throw up.

The spew of yellow and green did nothing to quell his nausea as he whined lowly to himself, hoping to be quiet enough that his colleague hadn't heard. But, that was wishful thinking. The smell also didn't hinder his sudden bought of sickness as he doubled over and expelled more of the appetizers that Rossi had been kind enough to put out. They just have thought he was a horrible guest, acting the way he had.

In reality, the doctor simply didn't want his girlfriend cracking jokes about his drug addiction in front of the people who helped him cover it up.

That's reaching, Spencer tells himself. It was more of a diss towards addicts, one which he didn't appreciate knowing that she knew about his past addiction to the knock-off Heroin he received from Tobias Hankel. At the moment, telling her seemed like the right thing to do. After all, she had expressed her own darker secrets to him, so it was only fair he does the same. At least, that's what she had said.

In hindsight, it had been a horrible idea.

"Eh-... yeah! Yeah, no, I'm okay. I-I'll be out in a second."

A second turned into a minute, which turned into ten until he finally misted up the courage to leave the bathroom. He kept reminding himself over and over again that she still loved him. She had said it herself- no one could love him like she did. No one. He was hers and she was his, though he would never lay claim on a human being. The thought made him feel sick.

The others were sitting at the dining table when he returned, and for the most part, they acted like nothing had even happened. He can't convince himself whether or not that was a good thing or a bad thing. His brain hurts.

She would know. She always knows. She would help him make the right decision he was unsure. The woman had done it a thousand times and she'd do it thousand times more if it just meant he made it out of a conversation without utterly messing up his life with one fatal choice. He approached it. He did.

Her hand is on his thigh when he sits down, rubbing lightly. He doesn't have the voice to tell her to stop. She was probably still angry about this morning, so he let her do as she pleases to keep her mellow for the night. Spencer could only pray that it worked this time. Her fingers dance across his slacks, and he does his best to ignore it in favor of listening to the clanking of utensils and utter silence that echoed through the room. Why was no one talking? Reid couldn't help but think it was his fault that the atmosphere was so awkward and bitter. He didn't notice Emily and JJ's cold stares at his girlfriend or Morgan's protective one on himself. He certainly didn't notice Rossi's concern or Hotch's understanding.

Understanding, and yet months later when he's laying in a hospital bed, beaten and traumatized, Hotch still hadn't done anything.

"You feeling any better, kid?" Morgan asked casually, and Spencer nodded and kept his head down, choosing to take a bite of food rather than meet his brother's eyes, the thought scared him. Her fingers drifted upward and he wanted to cry. "You kind of scared us."

Not Hotch, Spencer thinks. Nothing can scare Hotch.

"He's a little drama queen," She says from his side, and the feeling of her fingers on his inner thigh make him regret being alive. "You should see him after he stubs his toe. Crying like a baby for at least ten minutes!"

The table laughs. Albeit, awkwardly and nervously. But it's something, so Reid doesn't mind it much.

"We know," Aaron smiles softly. "We've seen him after the coffee machine breaks."

The next round of laughter is better. Lighter. It doesn't make Spencer feel like he's being suffocated from the inside out, or choked out by strong fingers. Fingers... up his thigh and by his groin. Squeeing. He wishes he could destroy his body for liking it while his mind was screaming for it to stop. This wasn't normal- his reaction, at least.

"I'm not that bad," He muttered. She squeezes, hard, as a warning and he clamps his lips shut. Tread lightly. Normally, but lightly. "Besides, Hotch without coffee is just as bad. Maybe even worse."

A pat. Good boy, she says in her head, and he can feel it in his mind somehow.

The conversation carries on until they're back to his girlfriend, asking her questions as if it were an interrogation. They were wary of her after her earlier comment on drug addicts, but they slowly began to accept her, it seemed.

"So," Rossi says her name like it's a cuss word. "What do you do for work?"

"Oh!" She expresses loudly. Spencer winces, though it goes unnoticed. Her hand becomes dangerously tight. "I work at a law firm not too far from where you all work."

This piques Hotch's interest.

"Really? I was a lawyer for a while as well. Are you any good?" He teases lightly. Sometimes Spencer forgets the man could kill any of them with a single wipe of his gun from his ankle holes get to their heads. It's insanity.

She grins. If Reid didn't know any better, he'd assume she was wanting to flirt with the older man. "Best of the best, Agent Hotchner. You know, it's a tough industry for a woman like me."

Emily, JJ, and Penelope share a glance before the bubbly blonde butts in.

"We feel you, girl! Trust me, it's hell working with some of the guys. But, what are you gonna do about it, you know? All you have to do is be confident, self-sufficient, and tough! Right, ladies?"

The other women hummed and nodded in agreement, mouths full of sirloin.

Her hand is not shy as it courses up and down his leg, as if she owned it like a piece of land. Her hand is smaller, but it can still fit around the front half of his thigh, which is a concerning thought that he chooses to not pay attention to. He tries to ignore the way her fingers ghost over his crotch, wishing he could just take her hand and toss it away so she got the message. Apparently, tapping on her hand from under the table just wasn't cutting it. But, he doesn't dare to do so, so he just backs and works on leveling his breathing.

He didn't want to spiral into panic attack number two within twenty minutes of the previous one.

“Yeah, Spencer’s always telling me how strong you ladies are. Sometimes I think he likes you guys more than he likes me! Haha! But now that I’ve met you, I see the appeal. Can’t blame a guy for ogling, you know?”

What?! Spencer can’t remember ever “ogling” at any of the women at the BAU, let alone his best friends. So that begged the question, what the bell was she talking about? Why was she making things up? Was this just another game of hers? Reid turned towards her, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted slightly as if he were still in horror at what she had insinuated. It was quiet before Spencer finally opened his mouth.

“What are you talking about?”

The rest of the room faded away, the presence of the others disappearing as he stared her dead in the eyes. She glared right on back, and all he could think about is how angry she would be later. Angry enough to do as she pleased with no remorse; angry enough to hurt him. It was just him and her now, having a staring contest that the male was rapidly losing to.

She frowned. “I’m just telling the truth, Spencer. Why are you acting so surprised? What, do you like lying to your friends?”

“Me? Lying? You’re the one who's lying and you know it. Why even bring something like that up?”

Scoffing, she dug her fingers into his thigh, warning him far more harshly this time. “I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this, Spencer! You have no qualms about talking about other women when we’re alone so what’s the problem now?! Men, too! Always talking about how I’m not pretty enough or good enough for you, but you’ll settle! I’m not the shit-stain here! You are. And it’s not fair that you paint me like some bitch!”

“That’s not true!” Spencer said, quieter than her because he never truly liked to yell. “I’ve never said anything like that to you. You’re just making it up!”

“Are you kidding me?! Who the hell do you think you are? I’ll leave right the hell now you abrasive piece of shit!”

Slowly, their little bubble dissipated and the other’s presence was once again known. The silence was deafening; thick and suffocating to the point where Spencer thought he might choke if he inhaled too much. The air was cold, sending shivers through his bones and wracking his slim frame to where it looked like he was trembling with anger rather than the cold. She turned her eyes downcast, scowling.

Spencer just wanted to go home.

The others were near frozen, though Reid could sense some untold anger radiating off of someone and towards him. As if they were appalled by his behavior towards a woman. As if this were all his fault. Perhaps it was. He ignored it and instead stood, pushing his chair away and moving from his seat, making his way to the front door. It’s still quiet, even as he slips his shoes on, grabs his satchel, and exits, on his way to the car where he would sulk until she decides to come out and join him. He sits back in his seat, hands trembling and eyes gathering with tears.

When had everything started falling apart?

A knock on the window startled him. Looking out, he sees Emily’s furrowed eyebrows and purses lips. He rolls down the window and stares at her for a moment before averting his eyes.

“What was that in there, handsome?” Her voice is gentle. Soft. But he knows it’s all an act; a tactic to get him to talk to her. He won’t fall for it, mostly because he doesn’t want to dig himself an even bigger hole than he already has. “Hey, talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

She glares. “Then I’ll just get to the damn point. I don’t think you are, and no one believes you are, but if you’re hurting her, we need to know. For both your sakes.”

Appalled, he shakes his head. “No. No, of course not. I would never, Emily.”

Her face softens considerably. “We know you wouldn’t, we just-... we can never be too sure. You know how it is.”

He doesn’t. Because he would never accuse his friend of abusing their spouse unless he had proof. What they had was nowhere near proof and didn’t even make much sense. It was just a quarrel, nothing more.

“I would never hurt her, Emily.”

“I know,” She says carefully. “I didn’t think you were.”

But that’s a lie. He can tell by the way she averts her eyes and her fingers twitch from grasping on the window hilt. It’s all a lie. The door to the house opens so she stapes away and turns, smiling at the younger girl. She smiles back and says her goodbyes. Spencer says nothing as Emily waves goodbye to him and goes back into the house.

They don’t believe him.

So why would they believe it if it were the other way around?

________________________________

The apartment is even colder than Rossi’s house. It is no longer warm and inviting. It is no longer a home. The building is no more than a shell of a former spark that was fading quicker than he anticipated. A spark that kept exploding in his face every so often, burning him and scarring him. The sound of feet against the hardwood floor was echoing and quiet.

She hadn’t talked to him in the car, merely letting him stare out of the window as she drove.

He doesn’t tell her about him and Emily’s conversation, or the fact that he thought he might implode any second now from the deep ache in his chest. He doesn’t say how he wants to break up with her because he’s scared and she hurts him too much. He also doesn’t mention how she’s made his life a living hell. And yet, he still loves her more than anything else.

But, she does take his hand.

She takes his hand, and she leads him to their shared bedroom and sits him down on the bed like a dog. He waits there, eyes blank and gazes straight forward as he waited for what she had in mind. He had an idea, but he still hopes.

Spencer closes his eyes as she slips into the bathroom.

The team hated him. They thought he was a horrible boyfriend- a horrible person. They thought he would hurt her.

No, he wants to say, it’s the other way around.

She returns from the bathroom, stark naked and fresh out of the quickest shower known to man. Standing in front of him, he looks away and clenched his fists painfully. He waits for her words, her orders, knowing he had no choice. He couldn’t say no. Not now, not ever.

“You owe me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my loves! Welcome to another chapter! I’m supper excited to post this one since it took so long to write and I’m happy with how it turned out :) The reason I’ve been out for so long is because for about two weeks I haven’t been able to write at all! I got a concussion from high school soccer (where no one cares about going into tackles super hard, unlike in club, where people are actually smart *rolls eyes*), so I’ve been trying to stay off electronics as much as possible. That’s why I didn’t edit too much on this chapter because it takes a while to do so. I was starting to get a migraine. Anyways, I wanted to thank you all for the support on this story thus far! I love you all so much and you are so incredibly kind! I have some one-shots coming out soon as well! Stay tuned! 
> 
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos and save for later! Lots of love- Lara <3


	5. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath is the worst. The words creep into his skull like spiders in search of a new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Thanks for being so patient and benevolent to me while waiting for this chapter. It's been a busy couple of weeks, am I right? Heed the warning below, my loves. This one has some triggering themes, so I want you to be prepared. See the ends for more notes and my endless rambling, haha! Enjoy :)
> 
> Warnings:  
> \- Semi Graphic Sexual Abuse  
> \- Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con  
> \- Physical Abuse  
> \- Emotional/Mental Abuse

The aftermath is the worst part. It's the laying in bed, a feeling of moistness on his lower half that made him want to puke if he rubbed his thighs together. And it was the coolness of the rub as it stained his skin that made him wish he could run to the shower and claw his skin off until he was left with nothing with nothing but a bloody exterior. But, he was confined to the sweat-soaked sheets on his bed. Left to rot and blister beneath the heat of warm arms wrapped around his waist and a face in his back. The feeling of a bare chest against his skin makes him want to arch his back away from the touch, and yet he stays still. Frozen in fear was not a saying to be taken lightly, he supposed.

The phantom figures of hands ghosting across his body is a reminder that no matter how far he runs, the nightmare will still live on- following him.

He wishes he never went to the library that day. 

But he still doesn't leave. There was something stopping him from packing his bags and walking over that threshold with no plans of looking back. A force he knows he should be able to overcome, and yet, he can't bring himself to simply push past it and make his way to the safety of one of his friend's houses. Morgan would let him in. Spencer just knows he would. But he stays, shackled to the bed with metaphorical handcuffs and unable to claw his way to freedom. A warmth settles in his gut, but it isn't pleasant.

It's her hand, running down his torso, beneath the blanket. Hadn't she had enough, already? Wasn't she through with her torture?

Supposedly not, because a hand wraps around him and suddenly, her lips are on the shell of his ear, leaving behind ghosts of kisses in what he assumes is supposed to be loving. They feel like the devil's fangs sharpening themselves on his cartilage. It's a cruel visual.

He grunts, though not in pleasure, and in the calmest, kindest voice he can offer, he utters:

"I'm not really in the mood right now. I'm kind of tired."

'Tired' was an understatement. He didn't spend three hours of his life being assaulted by the women he loved only to be forced to do it all over again no more than an hour and a half later.

What he wanted was for her to leave him to sleep alone, in a bed with new sheets and a different mattress altogether. But what he wanted didn't matter. It never did.

"You weren't tied before. I'll make you feel good, just relax, babe," Her voice is so sweet, he almost believes it. Spencer is lucky he isn't stupid, or he may have shut his mouth right there and then and let her continue. Or maybe, he was just dumb enough to decide against that idea. "I said, relax. You're so tense. All that work finally getting to you? You know, it wouldn't hurt to take some time off for a while. Besides, I think seeing all those gory things is messing with your brain, sweetheart."

He knew what she meant by "some time off" and he was repulsed by even the thought of it.  
  
She cared for him. He knows because she treats him so kindly after, it's as if he hadn't done anything wrong, to begin with. However, deep down he knows she's angry, and the fact that she's not taking it out on him is scary. Terrifying, actually. It was different. Why wasn't she yelling at him? Why hadn't she hit him? Was it because she didn't have the energy, or because she was truly sorry for doing so in the past? Didn't he deserve to be hit? He, after all, had been the one to cause the ruckus at the dinner party. There was no way she wasn't vexed at him.

Perhaps, she was just biding her time, letting him marinate in the shame and anxiety until she finally decided to do something about it. She had done it before.

"I like my job."

He says it before he can think, and for a brief moment, he closes his eyes and waits for the incoming blow or a palm against his cheek. It never comes. Her hand stills on him.

"I like my job, too," She says into his ear and a shiver racks down his spine. Her laugh is all he needs to know she was enjoying his fear far too much to be sane. "But I also know when to relax. I should have known you wouldn't understand. You're too stupid, aren't you? Just an idiot who doesn't know his right from his left. You wouldn't know the answer if it hit you over the fucking head. And they call you a genius, for fuck's sake. You're weak. That's why they won't give you a gun."  
  
Spencer stiffened.

"I have a gun, now," It's barely above a whisper. He'd be surprised if she even heard him, despite how close she was. Its almost as if he's reassuring himself of the fact, and that if he said it enough times, it would somehow make it that much more true. As long as he believed it, it didn't really matter what anyone else said (or so he thought). He has a gun now, he tells himself over and over again until his head begins to ache. He has a gun now. He isn't the same useless kid that started out at the BAU. No, he was a man and was worth more than nugatory factoids and endless rambling on things that didn't necessarily matter in those moments. And yet, her words stain his brain like coffee on an old rug. "I know you think it would be better to resign, but I really do love my job and I would like to keep it for as long as possible. I can't think of anything else I'd like to do than work at the BAU."

Suddenly, nails are digging into his cheek, blunt and yet somehow managing to just barely break through the first layer of skin. The faintest amount of blood seeps from the small, crescent-shaped wounds and buries itself beneath her fingernails, taking a part of him away, never to be returned. He hisses, snapping his head to the side in an escape to escape the sharp pain, and yet, she is persistent. Her fingers gouge canyons in his cheeks, leaving behind red marks that would soon fade to a purplish-blue, and then a bile yellow.

He wonders if the foundation at the corner store is still half off the original sale price. He wouldn't mind have a few extra bottles hanging around. 

She hisses too, but hers comes from her throat rather than the tip of a poised tongue. Her's is of anger, not pain. No, he thinks, perhaps her's, too, is from pain. What an odd thought.

"Are you that _stupid?"_ Her words sliced through his skin like a paring knife, slipping past skin and tendons to get to the meaty center surrounding hard, chalky bone. They weaseled their way through his bloodstream and to his brain, immobilizing him while he processed them. His hands shook while her other hand, the one that was buried deep beneath the covers, gripped so hard, he feared she may rip the appendage off if she wasn't careful. Little did he know, she would have no qualms about doing this, had she thought of it herself. Spencer's just glad he never gave her the idea. "They don't need you there. They don't want you there. You're the nuisance they can't get rid of, and if I would guess, I'd say that the whole lot of them were disappointed when they realized you were alive during that Hankle case. When they saw you, they probably wanted to shoot themselves dead."

"That's not true..." Reid slipped his lips shut and squelched his eyes. "They were happy. Hotch gave me a hug, for Pete's sake. He hardly even smiles, let alone-..."

Spencer isn't entirely sure how she got into such a perfect angle for her hand to snap across his cheek in a way that left the breath running from his mouth and his skin to sear. The world goes blurry then, time slows to a halt as if it had never existed at all. There was a fine line between reality and imagination, and the genius was beginning to wonder if he could no longer tell the difference. Reality didn't tend to revolve around hazy hours that passed in what seemed like years. Nor did it involve sounds merging together and mellowing out, or images swirling into a dizzy array of nothingness. Was he awake? Was this just some sick dream? She was holding him now, both hands cradling his sharp jaw in the palms, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones gently, easing the pain.

He's crying. The tears hardly make a difference as they travel down in little streams, seeping into the cresent wounds before being wiped away by the pad of a thumb. He flinches. It's a force of habit at this point- something he truly cannot control.

And she's apologizing.

She always does. It was a strange phenomenon, really; how she would go from blinding rage to remorseful and solemn all in the span of a single second. When she did so, it was as if a switch had been turned on inside her head. Her eyes flashed, going from vexation and misery to despondency and dullness as if she had lost her spark. She would press kisses to his eyelids, letting the tears seep through her lips, salty and warm. Her fingers would brush along his skin, easing away the soreness and tension that rest in his jaw. It worked every time.

That was another odd occurrence. He never pushed her away. Should she decide to hit him over the head with a baseball bat, he would let her just so he could feel the warmth of her hands cascading down his cheeks and neck, followed by the caress of soft kisses. He would do anything to feel needed. Wanted. Loved. Deep down, he knew there was a significant difference between real love, and what he and she had. There was something sad about their love that didn't remind him of the movies he watched as a kid. There was more tiptoeing, especially on his part. If there was a chance he might say the wrong thing, he wouldn't say anything at all in fear of her punishment. The illogical side of his brain found it smart. The profiler side of him called it adapting. Reconfiguration. 

"I didn't mean it," Her voice is so soft and he can't help but believe her. She was stressed. It was no one's fault but his own for peeving her off and pushing buttons. "I swear, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just wait here, I'll get an icepack, okay, baby? You just wait here and I promise I won't ever do it again. Fuck. I swear on my life. Never again."

"Never." Spencer solidifies. 

"No! No, fuck, never again. I never wanted to hurt you, I didn't mean it. Wait here. I'll be right back."

When she leaves, he feels an odd sense of emptiness, like a piece of him had been stripped away. His skin had been sliced off, leaving only the stringy meaty center of his body on display. Vulnerable. Naked. A cold, hard sensation eats away at his gut, causing his body to curl on instinct, spine arching painfully into his front as his knees make contact with his chest. Spencer can feel his own hot breath on his skin. coming off in short spurts rather than calm exhales, and he can't help but think that maybe it would be best if he didn't go into work at all. 

There was still a chance that she was right. As the days passed, it seemed like her idea of quitting the BAU was the right decision. Mulling over the thought, he wondered if he retired, would he be allowed to spend all his days curled up in bed? If so, he doesn't think he would mind leaving the team. Nothing seemed to appease him more than laying in bed by himself.

Spencer likes the BAU. No, he loves it. It's his livelihood, and at more than one point in his life, the thing that saved him. Had he not had the BAU. he would have spiraled from his addiction. If he never joined, he would have been stuck in some research facility, talking to coworkers like computer automated robots and he probably wouldn't be allowed coffee because there was a chance it might have contaminated his experiment. And yet, when he thinks about it from a logical perspective, feelings, and personal emotions aside, he can't help but wonder if his life would benefit from living off of a single paycheck. A paycheck that wasn't his. 

Gideon would be disappointed. All that work to give his protege the best life possible- all down the drain. Spencer knows he's selfish. She said so herself.

When she returns, her arms are full of goodies. She sets the bottle of ointment on the bedside table, followed by a bag of half-eaten chocolates he's not allowed to eat, and a damp but warm washcloth. She starts by peeling away the thick covers, exposing his naked body for her viewing pleasure. She avoids staring and takes the washcloth along his torso, wiping away at the stains that littered the skin there, tenderly look at them as they faded. Maneuvering her hand to a clean side of the cloth, she proceeded to repeat the action until his entire lower half was free of residue. Reid was thankful- no one ever cared for him like this before. Not even his own mother.

He supposes that this is what love is. It's the warm feeling in his stomach that he gets when she looks into his eyes and the nervous butterflies that spring forward when he tries to talk to her. Love was the soft smiles she sent him, and the gifts she got him after their fights got out of hand. It was touching him.

Perhaps if he just said yes, he would get to feel the warmth of love. When he says no, it felt as though the love were still there, yet dulled by the burning hatred and spiking pain that seared through his heart. 

Spencer feels empty again when the tips of her fingers begin to trace over the mark she left on him.

"Never again?" Reid asks softly as if he doesn't quite. believe it.

"Never, sweetheart. Never again. I promise."

He regrets to admit that he's beginning to believe in soulmates. 

_______________________________________________________________________________

Spencer enters Hotch's office with a straight spine and a determined glint in his eyes. The older man stares at him with blank, dark eyes. Curious, and yet he wasn't afraid to put up an emotionless front. Reid would never admit it, but the hardened stare his boss held was unsettling, to say the least. The younger man adverted his eyes, brown irises gleaming with unshed tears. He wasn't even sure why he felt the sudden need to cry, but he pushed it to the side and swallowed the lump in his throat. 

"Reid," Hotch said softly, pushing his paperwork to the side. He took in his agent's appearance for a moment before swallowing. "What can I do for you?"

"I need some advice," Spencer admitted, walking closer to the man's desk and looking expectantly at the chair in front of it. Hotch motioned towards it and he took the welcoming in stride, sitting straight as a rod, his spine bending backward. "And I wanted to apologize."

Hotch's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Apologize for what, Reid?" 

The younger agent had to hold back a scoff. As if his behavior at the most recent dinner party hadn't been both immature and borderline cruel (she apologized to him as well, but made sure to let him know what if he hadn't riled her up, she wouldn't have said those things), and hadn't caused an array of secondhand embarrassment. It was almost humiliating, thinking back on it, how he had gotten into a domestic argument in front of his entire team. And to think, a part of him had been so excited to introduce the two most important things in his life, apart from his mother. But it had been his fault anyway, so the vexation he felt was only warranted towards himself. 

Rubbing his sweaty palms together, Reid resisted the urge to spring up from the seat and run away. 

"For my behavior the other night. It was completely childish and unnecessary, and I undoubtedly made you and the others uncomfortable. I know you excited you all were to meet her, and I'm sorry for ruining the night," Spencer frowned, unable to gather the courage to look Hotch in the eyes just yet. "I didn't mean to cause such an uproar and drama over nothing."

Hotch seemed unaffected by the boy's words for a while, until his lips upturned in a rather, small smile. Spencer wanted him to scream; to lash out, hit him, beat him within an inch of his life. He wanted the man to fire him, but not before making sure he felt all the pain he deserved to feel. Spencer wanted Hotch to call him names- any name that would make the hole in his heart feel even more gaping. It's what he deserved. Maybe, if he was punished here, she wouldn't have to do it later, when he got home and told her that he didn't, in fact, quit his job because the idea alone made his skin crawl. She would be so angry. But maybe, just maybe, if she saw the bruises left on his skin from the other night, she would take pity on him. Wishful thinking.

"You're forgiven, Reid. But to be honest, everyone was more concerned than angry. You rarely act like that, so it was a little more than concerning when you blew up out of nowhere. Besides, what your girlfriend said- while it didn't necessarily warrant your response- crossed a line and I won't fault you for getting caught up in your feelings. We were angry at her, mostly, for starting the argument."

He's confused. For once in his life, he didn't know the answer. Wasn't the fight his fault? She said so. While was Hotch lying to him? Did he think he was that stupid?

Reid glared, but it softened almost immediately.

What was wrong with him?! He had never gotten angry at his boss- not really. So, why the sudden onslaught of rage and accusations? She was right. He really was stupid.

"It was my fault. I don't want you guys getting the wrong idea. She's a great person and an even better partner. There's nothing wrong with her."

Hotch blinked harshly. "I wasn't insinuating there was."

Spencer gulped, brushing his hair back with a sweaty hand and trembling fingers. There was nothing wrong with her. He was the problem, not her. Him. Everything was his fault, from the later night arguments to the empty bottles of alcohol to the dark bruises littering the skin beneath his clothes. "Sorry. I'm sorry, I know you weren't. I didn't mean to sound so accusatory. I, uhm, I just haven't been sleeping well lately and I've been kind of snippy."

Hotch huffed lightheartedly and smiled. "You're just liked, Jack. He misses his afternoon nap and it's like all Hell's broken loose. I understand completely. I can schedule you an appointment with the in-house psychiatrist if you'd like. I don't want you suffering when help is right in front of you."

How ironic, Spencer thinks.

He could tell him if he wanted. He could tell Aaron about the rape. He could tell him about how she isn't afraid to hurt him physically when he does something she disapproves of. He could tell him about the alcohol, and how she could drink a whole bottle in one night and smash it over his head, leaving him bleeding and broken on the floor until morning, where she would apologize profusely and take him to the hospital. He could tell Hotch about how he was no longer his emergency contact. She was. Help is at the tips of his fingers. He won't tell him. Not today. Not ever.

"That would be great."

Hotch smiles. This is the first time Spencer has ever accepted therapy outside of the usual psyche exams after each case. What seems like a step forward is anything but.

"I'll get on it as soon as possible. What else was it you needed? Advice? You'd usually go to Morgan for something like this."

Spencer smiled. It hurt his cheeks. 

"This is work advice, not relationship advice, and I somehow doubt Morgan would actually be able to help me on this one," Spencer was inwardly gagging at the idea of asking Morgan something like this. The older man would never let him live it down, constantly bringing it up every time they were alone to see if he could pry out an answer. as heartwarming as it was, it was also insufferable. Plus, he didn't want to worry the man more than he already had. "But I think you can. At least, I hope you can. I would rather ask Gideon, but, obviously, he's not here."

"You think I can?"

"Yes," Spencer's lips parted as he exhaled, eyebrows twitching as he gazed at the floor in thought. He wasn't quite sure how to phrase what he wanted to say. His stomach ached. "I was wondering if you knew how to tell when it's time to move on."

Hotch was quiet for a moment. mulling over the words with shallow breath. "Move on? From the BAU?"

"From a chapter in your life. How do you know when it's time to move on and search for something else?"

Aaron blinked and sighed, intertwining his fingers and placing them on the top of his desk, as if he were about to start lecturing the younger man. "Well, I suppose it's different for everyone. Sometimes we know it's time to move on when we no longer get enjoyment from whatever we're doing. If there's no more drive or motivation then you know that maybe you should look for something else to occupy your time with. If something brings you more harm than good, then you know it's time to let it go. Where is this coming from, Reid?"

Spencer held his breath. "When I was a kid, I swore to myself that I would cure schizophrenia. When I met Gideon, I put that dream to the side and focused on the things I could do, like applying for the FBI and graduating college. And when I finished those, I went on to pass the training course and when I finally joined the BAU, it felt like I had finally reached the summit of this impossibly high mountain," There were moments in time when Spencer knew when he was lying to himself. When he told himself just one more vial, and then he'd quit. Or when he said just one more book before bed. Or when he promised himself that he would go to bed early so he wouldn't be as tired in the morning. Now, he can hardly differentiate the lies and the truth. He was doing this for himself, right? Not for her? "But I've realized that I'm only halfway there because I can't see the outline of where the Earth curves and the sun rises. And I'm thinking the only way I can make it to the top is if I move on. If I let go."

There were also moments in time when Spencer felt guilty for his decisions in life. For instance, when he refused to put any effort into t-ball, and his father had the audacity to pull out this disappointed, despondent expression that made him look older than he really was. The guilt that ate at him that day was immense. He remembers it vividly. 

Now is one of those times. Because Hotch is quiet, stunned into silence and afraid of what one of his best agents was insinuating. Never once since the man joined had Aaron thought he would have to walk into the office every morning and not see Doctor Spencer Reid sitting at his desk, filling out paperwork as he owed it his life. And now, he was facing the idea of having to tell the rest of his team that their youngest member, their little brother, was leaving. The thought made his heart clench around nothing. 

"You want to cure schizophrenia?"

"I want to make it to the summit before I die."

"... By curing schizophrenia."

"By moving on."

Aaron had no control over what one of his agents did. It was as plain and simple as that. If Reid wanted to quit, all he could do was try and talk him out of it, but at the end of the day, all Spencer had to do was turn in a resignation form and he was home free. It was a terrifying reality. 

Spencer didn't want to live in a world without his team. They were his everything; his reason for waking up, the reason he quit Dilaudid, and the reason he made an effort to better himself. Without them, he was nothing but a shell of his former self. A hollow, empty chest cavity. And yet, there was a woman waiting for him at home who wanted nothing more than for him to recognize when he needed to move on. Someone who wanted him at his best.

"You're-..."

"I'd like to put in my two-week resignation notice, please," Spencer spoke so fast, he hadn't even noticed he was talking until his kips slipped shut. This wasn't what he wanted, was it? "You can cancel that psyche appointment too. I'll be gone by the time they even find a time."

Hotch feels like he's watching a family member die.

"There's nothing I can say or do to talk you out of this?" Spencer shook his head softly, biting at his lower lip, his eye finding the floor far more interesting. Aaron's voice was soft, and just barely above a whisper. "Alright, then. I'll print one and have you sign it. I'm-... I'm sorry you couldn't find what you were looking for at the BAU, Reid. I don't know what we did wrong but, I'm sorry. I don't think you would do something like this- it just isn't you. And when you finally get that through your thick skull, we'll have a spot open for you. Never forget that."

"Thank you, Hotch. For everything."

"Anything, Spencer. We'll be waiting for you."

Spencer went home that night with a cold, hollow feeling in his chest, as if his heart had been physically removed and replaced with empty space. He hung up his coat and slipped off his converse at the front door, walking like a ghost through the hallways of the dark apartment. At the foot of his bed sat her. She was smiling softly at him, beckoning him over with soft hands.

He went forward and leaned his chin into her palms, relishing in the way her fingers graced over his face gently. She kissed his eyelids, letting him sink further into her touch. She whispered sweetness into his ears, the words rolling out like honey and smelling of from linen as he murmured about how much he loved her; how she made him feel complete, and whole, and happy. It was so different from her usual demeanor, he hardly even recognizes her at first. Thinking he should check, the man sighed sheepishly and smiled.

And when he opened his eyes, he was alone.

Spencer can no longer decide whether he wants her, or he wants the image her created of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The holiday season is probably my least favorite part of the year despite how excited I am for the actual holidays. There's always so much to do and buy, and this year, I was nervous my gifts would arrive in time for Christmas since I ordered them online. I didn't want to do any unnecessary shopping trips ;) If any of you were wondering, which you probably aren't- let's just be honest-, but I got a new laptop for Christmas (one that actually works) and it totally beats my old system of writing. Hopefully, my chapters will come out faster, though there are no promises. I'll try to create some "due-dates" to keep myself somewhat on track.
> 
> Tell me how your holidays went and what you did/got for Christmas/Hanukkah/etc. My guilty pleasure is holiday hauls, haha!
> 
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos and save for later! Lots of love- Lara <3
> 
> PS: Follow me on Twitter @RisingAnarchy for updates, snippets, and more fun stuff :)


	6. Author's Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading, just know this isn't bad news, haha... well, it's not GOOD news, but it's not horrible either.

Hello, everyone! I first off want to thank everyone who has read, commented, and left kudos so far. I appreciate it more than you could ever know! I'm not abandoning the story if that's what you guys were thinking, but I am taking a very short break due to my health, which I will explain. Remember when I told you all about the concussion I got awhile ago during a soccer game? Guess what! I got another one! My first one never fully healed, and I paid for my stupidity when I started playing too soon. And because of the severity and the fact that I hurt my head again so close to my previous injury, I need to take a break from electronics for a while. I'm really sorry but there won't be an update until some time in February. I'm truly sorry, everyone. 

I'll get back to you all as quickly as I can, and I'll try to reply to any comments on this chapter, but don't worry, I'll be back as soon as possible :)

I love you all so much, you have no idea! Thank you for being so understanding that my health comes first. Once again, I love you all. You guys keep me going. See you all soon! 

Lots of love- Lara <3

**Author's Note:**

> I recently moved, which was why some of my chapters in my series were coming out slower, but the good news is... I’m all moved in! Although I started school again, I’m doing it all virtual so I have time to write more. You all have been a supportive, I can’t wait to get posting! Thanks for being you! 
> 
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos and save for later! Lots of love- Lara <3


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